


Shatter Me

by Crystalliced



Series: Shatter Me [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Language, Original work - Freeform, Tags to be added as chapters come out, Tentativity, real-world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalliced/pseuds/Crystalliced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  A lost man, a quirky pianist.  A hidden past, a brightened future.  These two have so much to live for, yet so much to run from.  How do you find the strength to stand alone?  Where do you turn to when there’s nothing left?  As Tyler and Lindsey hunt down the answer to these questions, they’re sure to learn a lot about themselves - and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue 01

Prologue Start.

 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Stop panicking. It was just a nightmare, a flashback caused by trauma. I will be fine. Everything is normal. I am still in my bed. He's gone. 

When I was a young child, I used to dream about the monsters my daddy would tell me about, implanting nightmarish images of hideous monsters with sharp teeth and claws ready to eat me. I would never believe him, of course, dismissing his claims as imaginary.

And here I am now, twenty-one and single, still seeing the monsters in my sleep. 

Growing up has nothing to do with seriousness, or maturity. No. When you grow up, you have reached the point where you stop dismissing spooky ghosts and spirits ready to consume you.

Growing up is when you realize that the monsters are real, but in a different shape.

I considered myself an adult.

 

Prologue End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start to a long story. Chapter lengths will increase drastically as the plot flows by.


	2. Fascination (Tyler)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief introduction to Tyler's life, and his first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fascination - Tyler's POV

Chapter One : Fascination (Tyler) : start.

 

I stare at the ceiling, willing my body to fall asleep. But I know I won't be able to close my eyes again, if only to restrain the torrent of images pounding at my tired brain like a rowdy, drunken mob. This is my sleep. Every day. I can even time it like clockwork.

9:30 - Go to bed. Close eyes.

4:45 - Run into nightmares. Open eyes. Allow heart to pound as you panic and try and fail to stop the pictures flowing into your brain.

5:00 - Feel moment of self-pity. Dream about a good night's sleep. Lie awake for an hour.

6:00 - Alarm goes off. Cuss under breath and slap the snooze button.

6:05 - Alarm goes off. Attempt to smother clock with pillow.

6:10 - Figure out how to turn off alarm and get up.

Of course, I don't have to sleep at 9:30, but I've found that less sleep makes no difference to my nightmares. But earlier bedtimes seem to dim the vivid flashes that accompany my dreams, so I make an effort to pull at least seven hours.

Every day, these nightmares appear. They never grow old, or less terrifying. In fact, they've only grown more intense since the incident eight years ago. Too long. It's been too long since I've had a dreamless sleep. 

I suppose I could see a shrink. But...

Is there really something wrong with me?

Stupid question. I know exactly what's wrong with me. There's just...

...nothing I can do about it.

 

It's not easy to love my life. But I try my hardest anyways. 

I shower and brush my teeth, scouring every inch of my body and mouth to wash it away.

Six years, and it's still here.

A haunting reminder of the incident. As if I needed another one; the dreams are more than enough to keep me awake.

Speaking of which, I spent yesterday night trying to teach myself a particularly hard song, and my fingers were not as synched with my violin as they should have been. And my stubbornness guaranteed that I would stay up until 1:30 am forcing myself to practice until my hand went numb. I'm tired. Really tired. And my manager's already pissed at me because last week I dropped a kitchen knife and, had it not been for his stellar reflexes, he would not be walking right now. I don't need the income to live. But I do want to enroll in college one day...a real college, one that could get me somewhere in life. I wouldn't mind working as a medical technician. The human body has always fascinated me, and I've aced all the classes necessary in high school. I have the grades. I was on the cross-country team, and I did a lot of volunteer work. My culmative GPA was one of the highest in the class, as were my test scores, I'm sure I could get in if I...

If I had the money to do it.

Always the money. I've applied for countless scholarships. They always end in rejection. I'm just not good enough. And of course, there's the other thing. 

I graduated from a public school. Why didn't I go to a private school? Money. It's always the money. 

My manager understands my situation. It's why he didn't fire me when I almost sliced his foot off. Or when I accidentally served ice cream to a lactose-intolerant customer. Or when I almost burnt down the kitchen.

The list goes on and on. And I'm still here, having held on to the job for a year and a half. Anyone else would have been out the door within weeks. 

Eventually, though, he'll run out of patience. I don't know what I'll do if I lose my job..

 

Work today isn't good. Being a waiter at Marvalo's is pretty tough. There's a constant stream of customers who always order complicated dishes, not to mention the plethora of extra sides, dishes, modifications, and drinks. And messing up earns you a complaint, a note on your card, and a reduction in your paycheck. Normally, I have a pretty good memory and a quicker hand, able to write things down without repeat or complaint. But today, on three hours of sleep...

"Tyler! Wake up! That's the third mistake you've made this hour!" My manager snaps at me, his harsh accent piercing my numbing ears. I stare at him exhaustedly, blinking before mumbling "Sorry..." He's not impressed.

"Damnit, Nakamura! Go home already! Before you lose more money than you make!" I don't bother mentioning that my last name is Nakayaka and wave, slipping out unnoticed. 

This is bad.

 

Four hours of extra sleep are all I can manage before the nightmares kick in, but they're enough to tide me over until tonight. But it's still rather early. Four hours until my self-imposed bedtime. 

Sleep, I notice, has no effect on my memory. I don't want to remember today. And I'm just old enough...

 

A brief internet search and I'm standing outside "The Triple Club." My first impression is that it looks oddly clean. No grafitti. No broken bottles. Not quite like the pounding beat and loud chatter I had expected. I came here because it was a two-minute walk away from my apartment, and because it was reviewed favorably.

"Just one drink." I mutter, before pulling open the glass doors and walking in. I'm a lightweight anyways, it won't take much at all to get me intoxicated.

The interior is...interesting. Simple gray walls, soft lighting, carpeted floor. I've never been to a bar before, but I expected loud chatter, frenetic dancing, and deafening music. But, no. It's quiet. There's at least two dozen people, but their voices are toned down, talking in socially acceptable volumes. There's even a honest-to-gods piano playing somewhere in the background. A little underwhelming, considering all the hype I’ve heard about the wild events that normally happen at bars, according to my friends. But...

I like it. This peace...you could even call it serenity. This little corner of the world feels like a tiny community in the world. A place where people can wind down and relax. It’s beautiful.

Even now, some complete random stranger looks up from his drink, waves at me, and continues talking to the guy sitting next to him. This place...

My eyes lock onto my goal, the bar across the room. A pretty blonde bartender wipes the table with a cloth while conversing with a few guys. They appear to want another drink, to which she frowns and waves them away. I guess that's how the atmosphere is so light here. Restricting alcohol. That makes sense. 

I walk over and plop down on a barstool, asking for the drink she's best at making. She shrugs and grabs a few bottles, mixing the liquid inside before handing me a tall glass with bright red liquid. It looks like fruit punch, and as I tentatively take a sip, I find out it tastes like it, too. The alcohol slams into my stomach like a pile of bricks. I best be careful about my consumption. I do want to make it home alive.

I continue scanning the room. It's pretty small, but partitioned off to give it the sense of size. My inspection reveals what should have been obvious from the start; a grand piano tucked into the far right corner of the club, a girl's back facing me. I make my way over, listening to the music as it increases in volume. The alcohol makes me adventurous. I hope that's the only personality quirk that comes with the drink.

She's good. I come to a stop about ten feet behind her as the music crescendos, then ends, the last notes ringing in the air. I nod in approval.

Red hair, long, but not too long, extending to the small of her back. Based off her posture and her head height, I'd guess her to be just barely about five feet tall, 5'3, perhaps. Her hair looks natural, although dye is pretty effective these days, so I can't tell for sure.

Her back stiffens, as if noticing me for the first time.

"Need something?" Her voice is neutral, the tone flat. "Just listening to you play. You're quite talented." She turns to look at me.

"And how do I know you're not just saying that to get into my pants?" She murmurs, just loud enough for me, and me alone, to hear.

"Because it's true. And your last chord? You might want to try F6 instead of D#6." I throw in, eyes tracing her features. By now I've forgotten the drink in my hand.

Hardened eyes, with all the color of a vivid sapphire. Lips curved into the faintest smile. Long fingers drumming a rhythm on the bench she's sitting on. White T-shirt, blue jeans. Without breaking eye contact with me, her fingers wind back onto the keys, playing the chord with my suggestion. As I suspected, it adds a brighter tone to her finishing notes, suited to the song it belongs too. I'm taken aback by her words though - why is she so inclined to believe that the only reason I bothered to come to this little corner of seclusion was for sex?

Right on cue, a guy walks up, drink in hand. "Hey, you looked a little lonely, so I-" he addresses her. I clear my throat loudly. "Ah...shit." He stares at me. "Shit, I'm sorry." He backs away, eyes switching back and forth from my bemused expression to her indifferent smirk. I shrug, and he mutters an apology once more before turning around and quickly walking away. I turn back to her, a half-smile forming on her face. She meets my eyes, but it lacks the coldness of before, a thoughtful gleam in her eyes.

"I'm Lindsey." She holds out her hand, for me to shake, and I hesitate before meeting her halfway. "Tyler." I say curtly, and we both quickly let go and retreat to our positions again, where she starts up a new song and I tap my foot to the beat.

I don’t mind this.

 

End Chapter One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will slowly begin to grow. I just wanted to hurry up the plot a bit. Once we get past these little steps chapters will double or triple in size, depending.

**Author's Note:**

> Tyler Nakayama (c) Crystalliced  
> Lindsey Stiles (c) Crystalliced


End file.
